


M'Lady and the Blacksmith

by littleladyyoda



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slightly Alternative Universe, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleladyyoda/pseuds/littleladyyoda
Summary: “You deserve better than a bastard blacksmith,” he says.She shakes her head smiling.“You keep telling me that,” she says. “And I’ll keep coming back, no matter what you say.”Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Kudos: 75





	M'Lady and the Blacksmith

Gendry hears movement in the doorway and knows immediately who it is. No one else would be coming to see him at this time of night.

“What are you doing awake?” he asks over his shoulder.

“I missed you,” she says, simply.

He smiles at that, setting the sword and hammer aside and turning around. 

She stands in the doorway, one hand on her hip and one against the doorframe. She’s wearing a dress, which is unusual, but which he can’t help but admit he likes. 

She walks slowly across the floor to him, her gait slower than usual.

Stopping in front of him and looking up at him, she places a hand against his chest. 

“I like you without a shirt on,” she says, her gaze direct.

“You’ll get your dress dirty,” he warns.

She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Maybe I like getting dirty, blacksmith,” she says against his mouth.

Gently, he scoops her up, hand cupping her backside and lifts her onto the nearest table.

He’s slowly pushing her skirts up when his hands hit cold metal. He smiles broadly when he realizes that she has a dagger strapped to her leg.

“And what’s this?”

“I like to be prepared,” she says, shrugging and placing the dagger aside on the table.

He rests his forehead gently against hers, his fingers playing slow circles on her thighs.

“I love you, Arya,” he says.

She smiles at that.

“I love you, too.”

He is reminded of the first time they had made love, here in the forge, after they had been reunited. He had asked her if it was her first time and she had assured him that no, it was not. He had asked her, sheepishly, if the person had been good to her. If she had loved him. 

“It was no one,” she had said, honestly, looking up into his eyes. 

He had felt simultaneous feelings of jealous and relief in his chest. Jealously because the thought of someone else touching her and kissing her and giving her pleasure made him want to punch a hole in the wall. And relief because, based on the way she was looking at him, none of it mattered. 

He is brought back to the present moment by her hands wandering down to his hips and then lower still.

He gently takes her hands in his to stop her.

“You deserve better than a bastard blacksmith,” he says.

She shakes her head smiling. 

“You keep telling me that,” she says. “And I’ll keep coming back, no matter what you say.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because you’re more of a lord than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He releases her hands, letting them go back to their wandering. 

“If m’lady says so.”

She smiles and pulls him down for another kiss.


End file.
